


i'd rather be right here

by GreenyLove



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Banter, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Implied Sexual Content, Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer, Kissing, M/M, National Team Antics, Olympics, Pining, Post-Canon, Rare Pairings, Romantic Fluff, Slight Canon Divergence, Teasing, Texting, Yamaguchi Tadashi's Freckles, boyfriend shirt, sorry kids we fade to black in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenyLove/pseuds/GreenyLove
Summary: He rolls his eyes and sends a noncommittal reply. He’ll do his share of celebrating. He wants to, wants to soak in the joy with the team, his team, that’s bled and wept and pushed so hard for this one moment. They won the Olympics — but right now, he needs a moment. Alone, he thinks, aware of the empty space at his side.He’s happy and tired and proud. He is. He has everything a man at this point in his career could want.Except his boyfriend, to celebrate with.(Japan wins gold, and Iwaizumi misses his boyfriend. But not for long.)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 102





	i'd rather be right here

**Author's Note:**

> this work is inspired by [this beautiful art](https://twitter.com/haikyuu_bby/status/1306093705934204928?s=20) by justine. thank you for feeding my hunger for more iwayama. <3
> 
> the slight canon divergence is mainly in regards to yamaguchi's job. he deserves to work with dogs so i made him an animal doctor bc i'm the dungeon master. 
> 
> song lyrics are from history by kina grannis

_Let's take that feeling right here to this moment_

_And sew it into the seams_

The ball hits the court, and the stadium explodes. From the sidelines, Iwaizumi clenches his fist and roars in triumph. Japan has won the Olympics. 

The team is rightfully overwhelmed. Hinata wraps Kageyama in an embrace so intimate the rest of their team stays away — until Bokuto picks them both up and spins them around, crying in their hair. Players pour in off the bench: Komori and Miya heckle a sweaty, stunned Sakusa; Ushijima hands a tissue to an emotional Hyakuzawa. Hoshiumi is in the middle of trying to hoist Yaku onto his shoulders when the coach whistles and herds them towards the back line. 

Across the net, Oikawa cajoles his teammates into their own line-up. It’s been a grueling five sets, but he doesn’t look defeated, only briefly inconvenienced. Like his tenacious mind already anticipates a rematch. He’ll be a bitch to face again. 

Iwaizumi catches Oikawa’s eye and raises his arm, fist out. _Good game, Tooru,_ he mouths _._ His best friend slowly grins, and matches his gesture. 

Both teams bow, and greet the crowd. They go down the line, shaking hands, mumbles of _otsukaresama_ and _buen juego_ traded across the net. Oikawa shakes Kageyama’s hand only long enough to yank him closer and aggressively ruffle his hair on international television. 

Afterwards, it’s a madhouse. They need to clear the court. Iwaizumi has two dozen adrenaline-high gold medalist athletes to wrangle into warmdowns. Somehow, he manages, though it quickly goes to hell when Bokuto’s boyfriend shows up, trailed by a tall blonde in glasses, the other Miya, a redhead who goes running straight at Ushijima — 

“Okay, fine,” Iwaizumi relents, waving them off. “Get out of my face and go celebrate.” 

Yaku drapes his towel around his neck. “Are you coming with us, Iwaizumi-san?” 

“Yeah!” Bokuto cheers. He somehow manages to pack up his gym bag while keeping one arm securely around Akaashi, who is wrapped up like a very happy eggroll in what appears to be a large Japanese flag. “We’re gonna do toasts! And shots! You gotta be there!” 

Hoshiumi raises a fist to the ceiling. “Miya is buying!” 

The setter in question smirks, vulpine, accepting a disposable mask from Sakusa and snapping it in place without missing a beat. “If you had any real game, Kourai, you wouldn’t pay for your drinks at all.” 

Hoshiumi pulls a face but is quickly distracted when Gao tries to sneak out unnoticed. 

Iwaizumi checks his phone. As expected, there are several unread messages from Oikawa. “I’m sure I’ll find you later.” 

Sakusa grimaces. “Just follow the sirens.” 

“If there is an incident, it would be faster to meet us directly at the nearest police station,” Ushijima points out.

Bokuto, Hinata, and Hoshiumi cheer. Yaku cackles. The team trickles out of the smaller practice gym. Iwaizumi shakes his head. Watching them leave, his smile tilts to the side of melancholy. He can’t help but fixate on the way Kageyama orbits Hinata, how neatly Bo’s large hand fits around Akaashi’s waist. Even Miya Atsumu, arguably the least romantic person in Japan, has a way of tugging playfully on Sakusa’s sleeve, matching his stride, speaking with only his eyes in a way that eases the stiffness out of Sakusa’s shoulders. 

Iwaizumi checks his phone again — still only Oikawa, sending him what appears to be the location of a bar.

 **tooru  
** iwa-chan!   
i have insider information  
tobio-chan will be at this bar tonight   
and has agreed to try tequila   
for the first time!!!  
٩ (◕‿◕｡) ۶  
he’s going to get smashed   
and tell me all his secrets! 

**hajime  
** goddammit, tooru  
don't get my player killed  
you sound like a supervillain 

**tooru  
** (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞  
iwa-chan!!!  
  
 **hajime  
** ugh  
glhf? 

**tooru  
** that’s better   
see you there (☆ ▽ ☆)

He rolls his eyes and sends a noncommittal reply. He’ll do his share of celebrating. He wants to, wants to soak in the joy with _his team,_ that bled and wept and pushed so hard for this one moment. They won _the Olympics_ — but right now, he needs a moment. Alone, he thinks, painfully aware of the empty space at his side. 

He’s happy and tired and proud. He is. He has everything a man at this point in his career could want. 

Except his boyfriend, to celebrate with. 

Once the gym is cleaned and the equipment safely with his assistants, Iwaizumi shoulders his own backpack and leaves the facility. It’s a quick jaunt back to his hotel in the Village. He just needs a quick shower. Maybe he can call. 

He’s not upset that Yamaguchi couldn’t make it to see them live. They’ve only been dating for a couple years, reconnecting through friends when Iwaizumi returned from California. Yamaguchi has his own promising vet career, specializing in the medical and social rehabilitation of rescue dogs, wounded in active duty. Today is a case of horrible timing: Yamaguchi, called out on an emergency on-site visit to a sick patient in Yokohama. Between travel, the trains heavily delayed by the influx of international travelers and tourists, conflicts with the dog’s owner — there’s no way Yamaguchi could have made it to the stadium. 

He had to miss the match, though he assured Iwaizumi he would pull it up on his phone. It sucked, but what was Iwaizumi supposed to do? Demand his boyfriend choose between him and a dog who lost a leg in a rockslide? Ridiculous. 

Waiting at a crosswalk, he clicks open his chat with Yamaguchi. There’s a photo, timestamped when the team was warming up: a selfie, Yamaguchi with his white vet coat thrown over a soft pink henley that makes his cheeks look peachy warm. He’s acquired even more freckles since the start of summer. He smiles toothily at the camera, his fingers curved into half of a heart. 

**tadashi  
** GO GET ‘EM BABE!!!!   
koto and i believe in you!   
٩ (♡ ε ♡) ۶

Next to him in the photo, his patient, a sweet-hearted dog named Koto, sits and leans loyally at Yamaguchi’s side, tongue out, at peace despite the still-healing wounds around her face and tattered ear. Koto looks at Yamaguchi the same way Iwaizumi does, like there is nothing better in the world than being around him and feeling the soothing comfort of his hands. 

Hands he could be holding.

Shit. Maybe he does need a drink, sooner rather than later. 

He slides his phone into his pocket and digs for his room key. Immediately upon entering, he frowns. The bathroom mirror is foggy and the room smells like steam. He definitely didn’t leave the light on — 

He steps deeper into the room proper and collides bodily with one damp, warm, and half-naked Yamaguchi Tadashi. 

“Haji!” 

He almost knocks him over, hands flying out to steady the younger man’s shoulders. “Jesus Christ.” 

Yamaguchi grins. “Nope, sorry. Just me.” 

“Just you,” Iwaizumi echoes. He squeezes his hands where they rest on Yamaguchi’s shoulders, registering the breathable athletic fabric. Wide eyes slide down the full length of Yamaguchi’s body, drinking in the sight of his spare black national team shirt draping down his boyfriend’s leaner frame. The collar falls wide, exposing his neck, where a few drops of water still cling to clean skin. The shirt is long, hits him perfectly in the middle of those plush, freckled thighs. It’s a sight out of a wet dream. He’s had this exact dream. But this isn’t a dream, this is _actually Yamaguchi —_

“You’re here,” he croaks. 

Yamaguchi smiles softly. “Yeah.” 

He exhales. One hand slides up the back of Yamaguchi’s head, guiding him forward into his arms and against his mouth. 

Yamaguchi tastes like vending machine coffee and the peppermint hard candies he keeps in his vet coat pocket. He smells like Iwaizumi’s body wash and that knowledge makes him hum and drag him closer. Yamaguchi settles his own arms around Iwaizumi, settling where his waist tapers in. They kiss slow, slow and thorough and sweet until his mouth feels warm. Until Yamaguchi’s smile gets wider and wider against their kiss and he finally draws back, flushed beneath his freckles. 

“Surprise,” he breathes, grinning. “I finished early.” 

Iwaizumi’s brow arches. Even if he finished his visit in record time, Koto’s owner lived across the city. “Really?” 

“Well — no.” Ducking his head, Yamaguchi glances up through his long dreamer’s lashes. “Ranpa-san sent me away early. We had the game on and I might have mentioned my boyfriend is the Olympic team athletic trainer? I was sternly lectured. Apparently I’m crazy for prioritizing her dog.” 

He leans forward, nosing aside damp bangs to kiss his forehead. “I love that about you, though. You’re a selfless person, Doctor Yamaguchi.” 

“I guess,” he says, then gasps. Excitement swells across his face, his grin gleeful. “Holy shit, you won, Haji! We won _gold,_ that’s so amazing! I want to talk about it, I want to hear how things looked courtside….” 

He glances off to the side, biting his lip. Heat uncurls in Iwaizumi’s core as a matching smile stretches across his cheeks. Rubbing his hands down Yamaguchi's arms, he backs them towards the bed. “But?”

Yamaguchi spins them and guides Iwaizumi to sit, moving to stand between his spread legs. He’s so tall like this, graceful and strong. Iwaizumi likes looking up at him like this, likes it more when Yamaguchi rests his hands on his chest. Likes being the mountain his lincredible partner can depend on. 

The incredible partner who _looks incredible_ like this, shirt slipping sideways, eyes glittering. “But, _Hajime,_ I’m not wearing pants and I’m a little offended your hand isn’t on my ass right now.” 

Iwaizumi snorts. His face hurts from smiling so fully. “You after something, _Tadashi?”_

“Ah, you caught me,” Yamaguchi admits, shoulders slumping. He leans farther forward, hands sliding to either side of Iwaizumi’s neck. The sweep of his thumbs along his trapezius makes him swallow. “I might have some intentions. What tipped you off?” 

“Might want to practice your approach.” His hands smooth down Yamaguchi’s hips, hitting bare skin and immediately inching back up his thighs. Fingertips dip under the hem. “It’s a little...see-through.” 

Yamaguchi hums, curving his back just enough to guide Iwaizumi’s fingers forward — off of skin and onto the surface of something much silkier. 

“That’s not the only thing that’s see-through, Hajime.” 

Iwaizumi groans on an exhale and pulls his teasing partner fully into his lap, palms questing greedily towards his ass. Yamaguchi laughs, more shakily this time, and presses back into the touch. Mouths draw together as they tip back into the sheets. The way they fit together is familiar, a known thing. But still, it leaves Iwaizumi breathless with wonder. He kisses every freckle on his lover's skin and thinks about stars. Constellations are a known thing, too, but no less dazzling for the knowing.

If there was a feeling sweeter than victory, it was this one: rocking together, unhurried, chest to chest, with no words but their names between them. 

#

Yamaguchi lounges naked against his front, sweaty cheek squished against his shoulder. Iwaizumi pets up and down the length of his back with one hand and checks his messages with the other. There are dozens from Oikawa, starting an hour ago with a photo of a pink-cheeked Kageyama squinting dubiously down at an empty shot glass, Hinata’s astonished, blurry face next to him in frame. 

**tooru  
** iwa!!!!   
it’s starting!!!! 

The texts devolve quickly from there. 

“Want to go meet up?” Yamaguchi mumbles against his skin. He doesn’t move, can’t see the screen. He just knows. 

Iwaizumi’s heart flips. He thinks for a moment, then says, “Tomorrow. There will be lots of celebrating, I’m sure. The closing ceremonies aren’t for another day.” 

“You sure? I don’t mind.” 

“Did you bring spare clothes?” Iwaizumi glances towards the television, where The Shirt landed in the midst of their coupling. It's wrinkled, sweaty, and considerably stickier. “Neither of us are wearing that shirt again until it’s washed.” 

Yamaguchi giggles. He squirms like the memory moves through him, pushing one hand up through Iwaizumi’s hair and letting the spikes slip through his fingers. “I planned accordingly. We can go if you want, Haji.” 

It doesn’t take him as long to think, this time. “I don’t want to.” 

Sitting up between his legs, sheets crumbling around their naked laps, Yamaguchi eyes him incredulously. “So...several of our mutual friends, who play volleyball on the team you coach, are out celebrating the Olympic victory of a lifetime, and you want to, what, order room service with me?” 

With a soft grunt, Iwaizumi settles his hand on Yamaguchi’s hips, digging his thumbs into still-forming bruises. He makes certain to catch those brown eyes with his own before he continues, as serious as he’s ever been. “I already have the sexiest guy in the world naked in my bed.” Yamaguchi blushes and Iwaizumi kisses the surprise off his mouth. “We can go out drinking next time Japan wins gold.” 

Cupping Iwaizumi’s cheeks and forcing their mouths apart, Yamaguchi says with utmost, breathless sincerity, “Iwaizumi Hajime, if your team wins an Olympic goal _twice_ in your career, I’ll wear both medals and blow you on the centerline.” 

Well, then. 

Iwaizumi growls and tosses him sideways, crawling forward to blow several raspberries against his stomach. Yamaguchi howls and laughs and kisses him. The phone gets lost in the sheets. 

_All in all_

_I'd rather be right here than_

_Falling off the pages of history_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3 this author responds to comments! 
> 
> [find me on twitter](https://twitter.com/greenywrites)


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